The car speed through the late-night Bangalore traffic, headlights slicing through the dark.
In the backseat, Justice Vikram Malhotra sat beside the unconscious girl, his brows furrowed in concern as he watched her head lean gently against the window.
Her lips were pale. Her clothes dusty. Her feet scraped. She looked fragile — like she had endured far too much and still kept walking... until her body finally gave up.
He took out his phone and dialed quickly.
Devika (Wife) - Calling...
She picked up on the second ring.
"Vikram? It's late. Where are you?"
"I'm on the way to City Hospital," he said calmly but firmly.
There was a beat of silence.
"What happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he assured. "But... I found a girl. She fainted right in front of my car. She's unconscious. No ID. Barefoot. Looks like she hasn't eaten in days. Might have been walking for hours."
Devika's voice softened, concern lacing her words.
"Oh my God... poor girl. Is she injured?"
"No serious visible wounds, but she's out cold. I didn't want to leave her there, Devika. Something about her... felt wrong. Not criminal — just broken."
Devika didn't ask for more.
She trusted her husband's instincts.
They always helped him separate guilt from grief, innocence from wrong.
"Keep me updated, Vikram. I'll inform the kids. And please... take care of her, until someone finds her family."
"I will," he replied quietly, watching Meher's head slightly shift with the movement of the car. "I promise."
As they turned into the hospital gates, Vikram sighed, still unable to shake the feeling that this girl — this nameless, lost girl — had just walked unknowingly into their lives...
And maybe, into something far bigger than she could imagine.
....
The sterile white walls of City Hospital felt cold, even in the warmth of the night.
Vikram Malhotra sat on the cushioned bench outside the emergency room, his fingers laced together, eyes occasionally darting toward the glass door where the girl — still unknown to him — lay unconscious on the bed.
Inside, the doctor checked her vitals, inserted an IV drip, and scribbled notes on the chart.
Moments later, the doctor stepped out, removing his gloves.
"She's stable for now," he informed Vikram. "But very weak."
Vikram stood, concern evident in his eyes.
"Is she injured? Was it the fall?"
The doctor shook his head. "No serious injuries. Just a few minor scrapes. But her body is extremely dehydrated, and her blood pressure was dangerously low."
He paused, then added gently, "From what I can tell, she hasn't eaten properly in at least 24 to 30 hours."
Vikram felt a wave of heaviness settle in his chest.
"She collapsed more from exhaustion and starvation than anything else."
The doctor continued, "I've given her fluids and a mild sedative. Some nutrients through injection. She should gain consciousness in a few hours. You're lucky you brought her here when you did."
Vikram nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."
As the doctor walked away, he turned back to glance at the room — at the girl with no name, no phone, no shoes... but pain painted all over her.
He sat back down, taking out his phone again.
He opened his contact list — paused on Arav's name — but didn't press call.
It was past midnight. Devika had asked him not to inform anyone yet. She knew the family would worry... especially Arav.
For now, this stranger needed rest. Food. Warmth.
Not questions.
Not chaos.
Just time to heal — even if for one night.
As the clock ticked past 1:15 AM, Meher lay unconscious on the bed, IV fluid slowly dripping into her arm.
She didn't know where she was.
She didn't know who had saved her.
All she knew — somewhere deep in her heart — was that she wasn't alone anymore.
....
The faint beeping of machines echoed in the silence.
Sterile white light. A crisp hospital bedsheet. The smell of antiseptic.
Meher's eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the blinding brightness above. Her throat was dry, her head heavy. For a moment, she had no idea where she was... or how she got here.
She blinked twice. Then again.
She wasn't home. She wasn't in her room.
There were no taunts, no sarcastic laughs, no familiar cruelty.
Only silence... and a slow drip of an IV line into her wrist.
And then, suddenly —
Flash.
The sound of a car honking.
Flash.
Headlights. A screech.
Flash.
Her body collapsing.
The road. The crowd. Darkness.
She gasped softly, panic rising.
Her hand instinctively reached for the side rails as she tried to sit up. But her body felt heavy. Her limbs shook. Her vision wobbled.
Still, she tried.
The IV line tugged slightly as she pushed against the mattress, struggling to raise herself even a little.
But her muscles betrayed her — weak, drained, starved.
She let out a frustrated, broken breath and slumped back, her head falling against the pillow.
Tears welled in her eyes. Not from pain — but from helplessness.
"How did I end up here?"
"Who brought me?"
"Why... did someone even care?"
The last thing she remembered was walking... no — running from everything.
And then?
Black.
Now, the quiet room echoed her emptiness louder than any shouting ever had.
She was awake.
But more lost than ever.
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